Afghanistan
by La Phoenix
Summary: What if Pepper Potts was on that fateful trip to Afghanistan with Tony? Some portions AU.


_A/N: This thought came to me when Tony hears Pepper's voice while under the water. What if she was actually there? Some portions AU. Standard disclaimers apply._

--

Pepper Potts prided herself on her professionalism, she really did, but right now was one of the few times she felt like doing her boss bodily damage. Most times it ranged between outright exasperation to mild frustration. This feeling, however, was approaching new records.

She was staring out of the window of the Humvee – or Funvee as Tony had called it – and she felt grimy, hot and utterly miserable. The dust billowing from the military vehicles in front made the landscape one grainy jumble of desert and far off mountain peaks. There was no air-conditioning and she'd last taken a bath 10 hours ago. It might as well been 10 days.

She uncrossed her legs, recrossing them no less than 10 seconds later, then gazed down at her feet mournfully. Her black Jimmy Choos looked completely self-conscious and out of place in a hard combat vehicle. Not to mention, they were smudged with god knew what. The once crisp, dark blue business suit was muted with dust and creases. She'd barely restrained herself from shrieking in the aftermath of the Jericho test missile when the dust hit them like a sandstorm. Stifling a sigh, she reached up to throw the wisps of red hair that had pulled from her bun – there was a lot of dust in her hair too – and it doing so noticed that Tony was staring at her, eyes hidden in dark sunglasses as usual. Or if she knew him as well as she did, staring at her legs.

"What's the matter, Potts? Wilting under the heat?" The false concern and trademark smirk was enough for her to give him a frosty glare, before ignoring him again to continue her progress watch through the window. She started to indulge in fantasies about ways to get back at him. Maybe she could take his drink and pour it all over him. Better yet, pour it over herself so she could remember what it felt like to have a bath. She mentally snorted. Definitely not. He would derive far too much pleasure out of that.

If her timing was correct, she looked at her watch to confirm, it would be another 45 minutes before they got back to the jet and she could at least tidy herself. The same jet with the stripper stewardesses on board ready to cater to Tony's every whim, her mind helpfully pointed out. This time the sigh escaped her.

Tony was still watching her, and she felt he was going to say something else, but instead left her in peace to make small talk and banter with the servicemen in the vehicle, who from the time they'd left the test site, were regarding him as one might look at a particularly rare species of animal.

Not a bad way to describe him, all things being equal.

He, she thought sourly, looked as if he fit right at home in this zoo, and in many ways it was like he was at home. Drink in hand, music blaring and at the centre of attention.

Why in God's name hadn't she been more firm and said no? It was her birthday for crying out loud. He'd assured her he would get her back in time for her plans, although why she ever decided to take the word of Tony Stark was a mystery to her.

He needed her to go to Germany afterwards on an impromptu visit to one of Stark Industries' subsidiaries there. A young, upcoming engineer had apparently perfected the design of the arc reactor to make it smaller and Tony wanted to look it over, run some figures and use the technique for making even smarter weapons. Maybe more.

Why did he want her? She wasn't technically capable and rarely accompanied him on those sorts of meetings. She had a thousand emails and calls to return. Bring her laptop to work on the plane, he'd said. Besides, he needed her to take notes and load up the information on her Blackberry which was interfaced with Jarvis' hard drive to do an instant transfer of the information. Plus, hadn't she studied German as a second language in college?

Italian, she'd said, eyes narrowed. And take your own Blackberry.

Come on, Pepper, he'd pleaded. Actually pleaded. And suddenly the balance shifted. From her haranguing him, his usual intense stare challenging her at every move, to this rare man who out of nowhere appeared before her, communicating more with his eyes than his physical words. For whatever reason, he really did need her there, and for whatever reason, Pepper found she couldn't say no. Not with that look from Tony Stark, the one she knew only a handful of people in his lifetime had seen.

Why not just come back for me after the Afghanistan trip, she'd grumbled half-heartedly, and watched the smirk reappear on his face. And make my carbon footprint any bigger than it already is? He mocked her, looking at her with a leer for his next words. Why don't we just share the ride? She'd rolled her eyes just as he had intended her to, and the brief connection passed. That's not the only thing around here that's too big, she'd muttered, turning to head up the stairs to pack her things. Why Ms. Potts - she'd heard him drawl from behind, unable to leave that sentence unchallenged - all you have to do was ask.

The literal car race to the airport convinced her to turn to him as they got out of the car and say she'd changed her mind. But in the end, he was Tony Stark and he wasn't born with a silver tongue in his mouth for nothing. Just look at the way he'd gotten to Rhodes on the plane. The dashing colonel who was usually so charming was not a pretty drunk.

Which meant that here she was in a damned uncomfortable Humvee listening to Tony Stark go on about cover girls and gag photos. She crossed her arms, sighed again, and mentally composed her resignation letter.

It was funny, Pepper later mused, how that moment – those last few moments in the Humvee – were so crystal clear. It was if her mind had taken a sensory photograph of that precise time in her life. The soldier and Tony posing for the photograph, the feel of the briefcase by her left leg, near the door, the heat. When the explosion came, the images came in shorter bursts, like a series of snapshots. The shootings, the panicked look of Tony's face, the bullet holes, the mad dash from the Humvee, the explosions behind. She never felt the sprain in her ankle, running across the rocky ground in four-inch stilettos.

She barely remembered the horror of seeing the Stark Industries bomb land directly beside them and Tony grabbing her arm to push her out of the way literally seconds before the explosion shook the ground beneath them. Or the huge rock which connected to her head, where she'd been hurled by the blast. All that registered was an overwhelming sense of panic before the immense pain made thinking impossible.

--

Jarvis, put the lights on.

Jarvis, turn on the lights.

She frowned. Why wasn't Jarvis responding? Come to think of it, she thought, where was her workstation, Blackberry, laptop? There was just darkness. Her subconscious duly noted that something was very wrong, even if she did immediately set about trying to fix it. Maybe she was dreaming. But this dream was so devoid of horrors and so dark, she had no idea what to think.

Sensation returned, and all she could do **was** feel. She screamed in agony, but all she heard was a weak moaning sound. Just like one of Tony Stark's women. That night she'd wanted to die of embarrassment.

Tony!

"Ms. Potts, please, try not to move. It will hurt less that way." She forced her eyelids to crack open seeing nothing but the bare outline of rims. Glasses? Since when did Tony wear glasses?

"Let me give you something for the pain." She barely felt the needle prick through the haze of pain over her body. She never remembered falling back into unconsciousness.

--

_A/N: I'm not altogether happy with this start, but I do have a plan. Sigh. I'm pretty moody right now. __Blame the hormones. __Let me know what you think._


End file.
